Adelaide Upset (19 page)

Conner was talking, saying
something about his dad. I tried to focus, to just sit there and
relax. But my jaw clicked shut, teeth clenched together and hands
fisted on the table. Conner’s words seemed to spiral out, echoing
like a long forgotten thought.

The woman’s bracelet
glittered as she hissed, and my own arm shot out in time, an
involuntary jerk to match her poisonous words. My wrist hit Luke’s
glass of water, and it didn’t just tip, but went flying off the
table. Flying and breaking, shards blasting out on impact,
skittering with the ice across the floor. The crack of broken glass
diverted the couple’s attention, their argument and anger
dissipating as they watched the servers scurry to clean up my
mess.

Conner tried to smooth
things over, assuring me not to worry. But the emotions wouldn’t
empty out, and feeling unbridled and wild, I stood up. “I, uh, need
to pee.”

I hurried down the wide,
curling staircase, repudiating the elevator in my current state.
The rubber of my shoes squeaked ugly as I hurried past the
ballrooms. From my visits with Reed I knew where there was a
bathroom tucked away, for staff mostly, quiet and empty.

I closed myself inside,
using a large metallic trashcan to block the door by pushing it in
place. The limestone counters were dry and gleaming so I hitched
myself up, slumping back against the mirrors. Finally, I could
relax.

I thought my control had
improved, that I was getting a handle on my ‘gift.’ But it only
took one argument to prove otherwise. It didn’t seem fair that the
woman who’d been feeling so hateful and raw kept it all together,
expertly aiming her anger, while I built up a storm inside, having
spasms like a lunatic. But that was the way of it. She knew why she
was pissed, while for me those feelings had no foundation, no
channel. So sometimes I struggled with the burden, even more so
than the emotion’s originator.

I perked up, jarred from
my thoughts. I could swear I’d just heard my name. Then louder,
“Adelaide!”

Was that? I jumped off the counter, pushing
the trashcan aside to stick my head around the door.

Lucas was striding through
the corridor, his wide-set shoulders disappearing down the hall.
“Luke,” I called after him. “In here.” He doubled back, taking in
the ‘women’s’ restroom sign before sliding through the open gap.
“Have you just been wandering the club, yelling out my
name?”

“
Yeah,” he shrugged. “What
are you doing in here?”

“Hiding I guess.”

Lucas sort of circled the
bathroom, pacing slowly by the stalls while I returned to my perch,
hopping back up between two sinks.

“
It smells nice,” he
finally said.

“
You sound surprised,” I
replied, feeling happy. I was glad he’d taken the time to track me
down. “What does the men’s bathroom smell like?”

“
Not flowers.” His voice
was low, traveling thick through the room, echoing off tiles, and
settling in my stomach. I shivered, shifting in
response.

At first I didn’t
understand. I was always so aware of him, so attracted, that my
reaction was not out of the ordinary. But watching him sort of
prowl around the small space, waiting with me, unquestioning and
patient... I just wanted to do him.

I exhaled a breath. “Lucas,” I uttered
softly.

He turned, eyes pinning me
in place. I pressed my thighs together. Luke was feeling it to, his
restless energy and boiling look gave it away. He paused, watching
me, and then strode forward.

We were kissing. I fell
back, my head pressed against the mirror, his hands pushing open my
thighs, squeezing my hip, pulling me forward. My shirt was jerked
up, my bra down. I scrambled with his belt, but paused when the
fabric of his pants split open. He took my hand, pressing my
fingers over him while expelling a harsh breath.

“Oh shit!” someone screeched.

I turned to the door,
seeing it slam shut, the exiting back of a uniform telling me we’d
just been caught by the staff. It jerked me back to reality. Here I
was, touching my boyfriend, squeezing him really, my face pressed
into his chest, my own chest completely exposed, and someone had
seen it all.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

As the feelings ebbed
away, the lust receding quickly, it occurred to me how unusual the
whole thing had been. Sure, I wanted to do Lucas, but not... well
not in a bathroom for one. It was like the desire had brought us
together, and just after being caught, it was gone. But I felt a
duplicitous satisfaction, an after-sex glow, totally out of
character with the current situation. Which meant, much to my
horror, that somewhere, somewhere close, two people had just
finished having sex.

I jerked my hand off
Lucas, pulling myself free of him and the counter where I hurried
to turn my back and button up. It all felt sort of dirty, how I’d
mauled Lucas in a bathroom, riding along on someone else’s
sexcapades. The back of my tongue felt sour like acid, shame making
me flush and shake.

“Adelaide?” Lucas asked, somehow feeling my
unease.

“It’s fine,” I lied.

“
I shouldn’t
have.”

“
I’m not mad,” I hurried
to assure, turning around to find him watching me close. I pressed
my face to his neck, letting him touch and comfort me. I knew it
wasn’t his fault. He was a man, and unfortunately, I was an
empath.

Believe it or not, being driven to molest
Lucas in the bathroom wasn’t even the worst part of our date. That
was still yet to come.

Francesca intercepted us
as we made our way up the winding staircase. “I don’t care what
happened,” she said, hand on hip. “I’m not letting you
leave.”

I didn’t bother making an excuse; Francesca
was familiar with the drill. Adelaide acts weird, followed by
Adelaide doesn’t talk about it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, trudging
past her.

She clicked up the stairs, keeping pace. “Oh
come on,” she said. “It hasn’t been that bad. Conner’s nice, don’t
you think?”

“Nice isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,”
I replied. “But sure, he’s nice enough.”

I could feel how much she wanted me to like
him, that hopeful desire. “Name one bad thing about him,” Francesca
challenged. “I bet you can’t, he’s been nothing but wonderful
through the whole meal.” She glanced at Lucas. “Don’t you
agree?”

He shook his head mildly.
“I could take him or leave him.”

I laughed, only steeling my expression when
Francesca got grim. “He’s got daddy issues,” I admitted.

“What?” she said, thinking it was her turn
to laugh.

I was dead serious, but
unsure how to explain my impressions. “He talks about his father a
lot, and every time he’s trying to subtly form your opinion for
you, trying to reel you into his way of thinking.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”
Francesca might act incredulous, but she was paying close
attention. At some point or other I’d convinced her that my
perceptions paid off.

“
I have a feeling he’s got
some deep-seated anger,” I admitted. Not to mention he felt bitter
and sorry. “Just pay attention and we’ll see how the wind
blows.”

Francesca was good with
people, and careful, very careful. Now that I’d pointed out my
theory, she would be watching. “Even if he does have daddy issues,
so what?” We came to stand just outside the restaurant doors,
pausing as she questioned me further.

“
Conner’s going to expect
you to be on his side, it’s what he wants. He wants you to dislike
his dad. But guess who holds the purse strings? And guess how fast
they’ll shrink shut if dear old dad disapproves of your
match?”

Francesca brushed back her silky dark hair,
face composed and lovely. Underneath all that she was a bit
deflated, and I felt bad. I was supposed to be supporting her, not
coloring in smudges on their relationship.

To cheer her up I said, “He really does like
you though.” And he did, maybe not deeply, but it was enough for
now.

“
Of course he does,”
Francesca said, confidence restored. She turned on her heel and
waltzed back into the restaurant, with me and Lucas trailing
after.

Can you guess what the
first topic Conner chose to talk about included? His father of
course. Francesca refused to look at me and smoothly changed the
subject, but he was always dragging it back, much to her secret
chagrin.

Things were winding down,
our plates being cleared away and the checks paid, when the
unexpected happened. Francesca’s head jerked a tiny bit, her eyes
zeroing in on something just behind me. To her giveaway gesture I
matched the emotions: an overall alarm, the mixture of surprise and
distress, belied by fascination.

I didn’t need to turn
around. Raina Thompson’s emotions radiated the distance between us,
her detachment bold, her contempt loud, and her loathing obvious.
We could all burn and she would be the merrier for it.

I heard Raina approach,
saw Francesca gulp, looking for once in her life a little
flustered. Without turning I said, “Did you enjoy your day at the
spa? A honey and flour treatment I hear.” I spared a glance over my
shoulder. “How odd, your skin doesn’t look any better. And what are
those, bug bites?”

In actuality Raina looked none the worse for
wear, not a single blemish or bruise. The ice queen, ever
impervious to harm. How I hated that smile. She was smirking down
at me, mouth thin, eyes cool.

“Yes, I have you to thank for that. Won’t
you introduce me to your friends?”

“No.”

“There’s no need to get ugly,” she said,
acting all prim. She was doing it, playing up the schoolteacher
look, her outfit plain and professional. “I don’t hold you
responsible,” she lied. “Neither does my employer.”

“Lars Hurst can go straight to—”

“I’m sure you didn’t hear,” Raina cut in. “I
guess Reed doesn’t tell you much.”

I had a sinking feeling,
like I was about to lose the last word.

“Well, he’s hired me on,” she said. “Reed
Wallace, that is. It happened some weeks ago. In fact, our little
encounter was his idea.”

“
You little asskiss,” I
said quietly. “You don’t hold me responsible?” I couldn’t even work
up a good laugh. “Well, I don’t feel the same. And I don’t care who
you work for, Reed or not, because unlike you, I don’t answer to
him. He can’t stop me, he doesn’t have that power, and trust me
when I say, we’re not square, not by a long shot.” I gave her a
hard look, stare for stare. “Hang around and I’ll make your life a
misery.”

She had the gall to laugh,
not the least bit worried. I didn’t intend to hound her, not
really. I was redirecting my anger from its true source, a one Reed
Wallace. But she was wrong to discount me, a mistake that had
already cost her. Raina was sure in her superiority, and it would
be her continual downfall.

“
I can see why he doesn’t
put much stock in you,” she said, one last parting gibe. “But
that’s why I’m here, Reed’s asked me to stay and keep an eye out.
And unlike you, I do answer to him.”

She left, and I couldn’t say where. I didn’t
watch, didn’t pay attention to who, if anyone, she’d come to meet.
I was too angry. I was seeing red, and the remainder of her
feelings only encouraged me.

I blinked, trying to calm.
Next to me, Lucas was carefully watching, seemingly more interested
than he’d been throughout the whole meal. And Conner, his mouth was
hanging open, no doubt shocked by my lack of manners.

“Did she say Reed Wallace?” Francesca asked,
unable to help herself.

“
We have to go,” I
announced, pushing my chair back to stand. Lucas was with me,
holding my hand. My perceptions were so cloudy just then, I
couldn’t recall which of us had initiated the touch. As we moved
away I heard Conner say, “I suppose you were right, my love, your
friend Adelaide appears to be the most interesting person on the
island.”

Unhooking the messenger
bag from off my shoulder, I turned it over, spilling the contents
across my bedspread. I sifted through, deciding what I would need.
The book I’d leave at home, gum too for that matter. I’d only bring
the essentials, wanting to travel light on my... well, mission, for
lack of a better word. No, I wasn’t going to assassinate Reed
Wallace, though the thought had crossed my mind.

I’d seethed throughout the
ride home. Raina working for Reed, it was only too easy to believe
that he’d hired her. And getting her to jump ship from his rival,
no doubt he considered it quite the coup. It was just like him. It
didn’t matter that she’d caused me a great deal of grief, nope,
didn’t matter at all, not as long as she could see auras, because
in Reed’s book, a person was only as important as they were
useful.

To be fair, he was right
not to trust me, I
was
keeping Demidov’s diary to myself, but to send
Raina? To have her ransack my house for a second time, where did he
get off? He deserved to be punished, but I didn’t see the point. I
could call him, vent my anger. But to pose such a question I
would’ve had to borrow Luke’s phone, and that wasn’t a conversation
I wanted him to hear.

He’d been silent on the
ride home from our date, not unusual, but unnerving. After outright
threatening Raina I fear I’d made myself transparent, cuing him
into the fact that I had a lot going on beneath the surface. But he
didn’t question me, not once. Not even when I had him drop me off
at home, saying I’d meet him later to spend the night. Instead of
being comforted by this privacy he granted me, I was bothered.
Maybe the next step for us wasn’t sex, but shared secrets. Intimacy
could be gained in more than one way, and I entertained thoughts of
telling him everything. It was more or less a fantasy, but one I
indulged as I finished getting ready.